West Palm Beach, Fla. – Last week, the Senate Judiciary Committee began confirmation hearings for Supreme Court nominee Ketanji Brown Jackson. Going into the hearings, it would be no surprise to find that there would be Senate Republicans categorically against Brown-Jackson simply on the grounds that she is the pick of Democrat President Joe Biden. While some would go on to admit that it was the fact that Brown-Jackson refused a cup of Cuban roast during a one on one meeting, (Ted Cruz R-TX), that decidedly persuaded him to vote against her, and others would publicly state that because Brown-Jackson did not offer an opinion on the political debate centering around Supreme Court ex-

pansion, of which Brown-Jackson eloquently reminded the Committee member who proposed the question, (Mitch McConnell, R-KY), of the unconstitutionality of the Supreme Court’s ability to expand itself, they would check ‘no’ for her ascension to the highest court in the country. It’s the sheer pettiness and ignorance of it all that led to four days of uncomfortable, and sometimes infuriating, confirmation viewing.

What decidedly made the Supreme Court confirmation hearing for federal Judge Ketanji Brown-Jackson difficult to watch were the orchestrated attacks that were direct missile hits to the professional and intellectual character of her career as a defense attorney and judge.

It goes without saying that having the distinction of being the first Black woman to be nominated to the Supreme Court would carry its’ own weight of significance; but in the same vein would also be a blazing target for a political party that has attached itself to the philosophy of former president Donald J. Trump, and the Trump political base that has dramatically transformed from the GOP of Ronald Reagan into a full-fledged alternative right-wing party powered by conspiracy theorists and insurrectionists. Ketanji Brown-Jackson, with her Harvard brilliance, glowing mahogany skin, dignified prose, and beautifully coiffed sisterlocks, yes, sisterlocks were popping, walking into the hearings each day was a provocation to Josh Hawley (R-MO), John Kennedy (R-LA), Marsha Blackburn (R-TN), Lindsay Graham (R-SC) and Tom Cotton (R-AR).

That provocation led to three days of questioning that attacked her judicial sentencing record, which is comparable to all federal judges, a probing of Brown-Jackson’s religious affiliation and the Constitution (which there is a distinct separation of, a point forgotten by several senators on the Committee), her stance on CRT or Critical Race Theory and public education materials (a non-issue because CRT is not part of ANY K-12 public school curriculum) and a major Republican meltdown regarding the sentencing structure for those convicted of possessing child pornography, another non issue because Congress, not federal judges, mandated the requirements. There was nothing inherently problematic with Ketanji Brown-Jackson on paper or in committee other than the fact that she is a Black woman.

In a country that prides itself on being post-racist (“We elected a Black president”), or as Tim Scott (RSC) once said, “America is not racist,” it needs to be pointed out that BrownJackson’s nomination to the Supreme Court is more than just historical. It is defining for Black women collectively. Ketanji Brown Jackson is significant in this moment because she represents an entire generation of educated Black women who fought the tentacles of White supremacy that reared its ugly heads in all areas of society, especially in the halls of higher learning and the American justice system. But for all the years of hard work and dedication that BrownJackson clocked serving her country, she is ceremoniously publicly attacked for upholding the law that she swore an oath to protect. It was the exhaustive systemically brutal lingual fusillade that Brown-Jackson sustained each day that put Black women everywhere on edge. The pushing, poking, insinuating, and low-key harassment felt personal.

So fast forward to Sunday evening’s Oscar award ceremony. The slap that was heard around the world. Literally. Comedian, writer, filmmaker, and producer Chris Rock could not have known backstage at the Dolby Theater that something was in the air that night. Coming out smiling and making jokes, it would be merely a minute or so later that Will Smith would leave his front row seat, glide up to the podium and deck Rock in the face, then return to his seat, visibly angry, with the words “Leave my wife’s name out of your f–king mouth.”

What precipitated the shocking moment was a “joke” in which Rock said to Jada Pinkett-Smith, “I love you – I can’t wait for GI Jane 2.” This was a direct reference to Demi Moore’s shaved head in the film. The grimace on Jada’s face was pronounced. Although Will Smith chuckled in that moment, glancing at his wife, and seeing the pain on her face, coupled with intimate knowledge of the years struggle that she had to go through to get to a place where she could publicly confront the disease that will eventually rob her of every stitch of hair on her body, in that moment, it was too much. Pinkett-Smith had confided to the world on her Facebook series “Red Table Talk” in 2018, and other periodicals her private struggle with alopecia. She revealed the horror she felt when seeing handfuls of hair on her pillow, or being washed down the drain, and/or combed out when styling.

For Black women, hair is the direct visual, cultural, and spiritual expression of individuality. Hair is a language of sorts for Black women. Ketanji Brown-Jackson’s sisterlocks spoke volumes at her confirmation hearing. Traditional dreadlocks for many years were associated with misconceptions of drug abuse, marijuana usage and Rastafarianism. However, in recent decades, dreadlocks, and its’ cousin, sisterlocks, are changing the perception of this cultural styling of Black hair. Black women are on the frontlines of this progressive attitude. The same thing with the boldness of Jada Pinkett-Smith’s shaved head, which is reminiscent of the golden hue of the bald beauty of Cicely Tyson in the 70s. To have Chris Rock joke about something as important as hair, or the lack of, on a Black woman in a room that lacked cultural representation, support, and affirmation, was a straightforward attack on Pinkett-Smith, and consequentially, Black women collectively. PinkettSmith’s husband, Will Smith, took up the mantle of defense, like the way Brown-Jackson’s husband, Patrick G. Jackson, consoled and cared for his wife before and during breaks of the confirmation hearing.

In the hours following the altercation between Will Smith and Chris Rock, the hashtags #protectblackwomen and #protectblackwomenatallcosts began to trend on social media. The conversation is nuanced in that, just like Black people, it is multilayered, multidimensional. Yes. Violence cannot be condoned. Smith acknowledged that point in a statement released Monday. “Violence in all of its forms is poisonous and destructive,” the statement read on all of Will Smith’s social media accounts. “I would like to publicly apologize to you, Chris. I was out of line, and I was wrong. I am embarrassed and my actions were not indicative of the man I want to be.” Smith’s apology, which came exactly three hours after the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced, “We have officially started a formal review around the incident and will explore further action and consequences in accordance with our Bylaws, Standards of Conduct and California law.” Yet, the question remains in light of the way Ketanji Brown-Jackson smiled through the irritation and discomfort she more than likely experienced last week, and the pain evident on the face of Jada Pinkett-Smith at the Oscars Sunday after Chris Rock, who according to sources didn’t know about her medical condition, alopecia areata, made that off color reference to her bald head, is do Black women need saviors? Do we need protectors? Did Will Smith define toxic masculinity by assaulting Chris Rock in the name of protecting his wife? One cannot say for sure, but one thing is evident: Black women are irrepressible.